


i'm already seeing stars in the air

by itsquietcompany



Category: Brooklyn (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alcohol, F/M, Smoking, and even less about running a pub, author knows nothing about irish pubs in the 1950s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-23 07:40:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18149015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsquietcompany/pseuds/itsquietcompany
Summary: After Eilis had broken his heart, Jim Farrell resorts to working at his bar, until a new waitress brings some joy back into his life.





	i'm already seeing stars in the air

**Author's Note:**

> very late and very rushed contribution to General Hux Appreciation Day  
> https://firstorder-humanresources-dept.tumblr.com/post/183362975601/general-hux-appreciation-day-this-st-patricks

Jim locked the door of the bar, got in his car and drove home. The house seemed cold and vast since his parents had moved out. He had been looking forward to sharing it with someone, especially after that someone had made a comment along the lines of _he won’t be on his own for long,_ but it hadn’t turned out the way he’d hoped it would, Eilis had gone back to America and he had burrowed himself into running the bar he had inherited from his father.

  
Nancy and George had stopped by this evening and scolded him for working too much.

  
“What do you want me to do, close at seven?” he’d asked.

  
“How about you hire a waitress, dummy?” Nancy had shot back.

  
That seemed like a reasonable thing to do, he thought. He’d put an advert in the paper.

  
*

  
One week after Jim had placed the ad, he still had no candidates. Every time the doorbell jingled, he looked up expectantly, but the incoming people always took a seat and ordered a drink. Jim was rummaging under the counter when he heard a female voice:

  
“Hello?”

  
He looked up and saw a young woman in front of the bar. She wore a plain brown dress and had her brown hair pinned up. Jim guessed that she was probably in her early twenties, but she had harsh lines around her mouth and eyes that made her look older and a little tired. He expected her to place an order, but to his delight she said:

  
“My name is Rey Johnson, I’m here because I saw you were hiring.”

  
Her face looked vaguely familiar.

  
“You used to work for Mrs. Kelly, didn’t you?”

  
She squirmed, as if she resented being recognized.

  
“Yes.”

  
“Very well. Come around, I’ll show you the bar.”

  
Rey side-eyed him. “You’re not going to ask why I don’t work for Mrs. Kelly anymore?”

  
He wasn’t. Eilis had told him how hellish it was to work for the old hag, how she was never satisfied with her work and how she unfairly favored some customers. Thinking of Eilis, he felt a stab of jealousy and not for the first time he wished she was here with him.

  
He shrugged. “Everybody knows Mrs. Kelly’s temper.”

  
Rey seemed relieved. Jim explained her her job, gave her an apron to wear and a contract to sign.

  
“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

  
“Good night, Mr. Farrell,” Rey said and waved him goodbye.

  
*

  
Rey settled quickly into her new tasks, but the tired expression never fully disappeared from her face and she didn’t seem to like interacting with guests all that much: She was polite, sure, but she didn’t laugh at their jokes or engage in a chat with them. Which was odd, because she spoke openly with Jim, even made him laugh a few times. He’d grown to miss her on her day off.

  
One evening only a few guests were there tonight – despite Frank playing the fiddle – and Rey had already served everybody, so she sat down at the bar next to Jim, her chin propped up in her hand, her foot swaying to the melody.

  
“I love it when he plays”, she informed Jim.

  
“Me too”, he said, absentmindedly shuffling glasses around on the corner.

  
Frank had started a slower, more melancholic song and Rey sighed wistfully. Jim had the sudden urge to cheer her up, so he said:

  
“Do you want to dance?"

  
Rey raised her head in surprise, then she smiled.

  
“I’d love to.”

  
Jim hurried around the bar, picking the dishtowel from his shoulder and throwing it carelessly onto the counter before holding his hand out to Rey. She slid from the barstool, nervously brushing her apron, and took his hand, allowing him to pull her close.

  
They were swaying more than actually dancing. He remembered the last time he had danced this closely with a woman, but this time he only felt a faint pain at the thought of Eilis. His full attention was now at the woman in his arms, with her soft brown eyes and her full lips, contently humming along to the music, and a warm buzzing feeling drowned out all the misery he still had within himself.

  
He caught the gaze of old Mrs. Connelly, watching them with a delighted smile over her sherry.

  
*

  
It became more and more evident that Rey hated her job. Her smile was visibly forced when she took orders and she would often sit down to massage her feet in her holey stockings. Sometimes she was downright rude to the patrons; although Jim found that understandable since they were prone to making inappropriate compliments. Seeing how unhappy she was, she would probably leave on her own and at least he didn’t have to fire the poor girl. He didn’t want to – he enjoyed her company, and since their impromptu dance, he could even envision something more between them.

  
Jim was in the backroom when he heard a _slap,_ followed by the sound of men hooting and whistling. He returned to the bar to investigate what the riot was about and saw one of the patrons, a man with a brutal reddish face, holding his cheek and staring furiously at Rey, who looked back at him just the same. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what had happened.

  
Rey tore off her apron, tossed it on the counter and made her way to the backdoor. Jim followed her and found her in the backyard, angrily kicking a trashcan.

  
“You’ll ruin your shoes”, he said.

  
She gave him a sour look but stopped her assault.

  
“Cigarette?” Jim held up his pack. She nodded. He took out two, put one between his lips and lit a match. Her face came distractingly close when she leaned in to hold her cigarette into the flame. He threw away the match and they smoked in companionable silence for a while, staring up into the starlit sky.

  
“I wished I could leave”, she said suddenly, and it hit Jim like a knife to the gut. Would she go to America too? She didn’t elaborate any further, and he didn’t push so they finished their cigarettes and went back inside.

  
*

  
When she arrived the next day, Jim knew she was here to resign.

  
“I’m sorry, I can’t do this anymore.”

  
He just nodded, the same sinking feeling in his guts as when he’d found Eilis’s letter on his doormat.

  
*

  
It was St Patrick’s Day and the bar was bursting with people. Clover leaves were decorating the walls and the tables, Guinness was flowing and the new waitress was bouncing between the tables. Jim was working the counter, filling pint after pint, when a familiar voice rose above the noise:

  
“Hello, Mr. Farrell.”

  
He looked up and there she was, beautiful as ever. The sight of her sent his head spinning, he opened his mouth fumbling for the right words to voice his sheer joy that he was seeing her again.

  
“I thought you’d left for America?!”

  
Rey laughed.

  
“No! I’m working as a seamstress now, for Mrs. Kerrigan.”

  
“And do you like it?”

  
“I do. Less dealing with customers”, she joked.

  
He acknowledged that with a fond smile.

  
“I know you didn’t like it here, but I did like having you here”, he said.

  
“You were the best thing about this job”, Rey stated bluntly, and he laughed. God, he had missed her.

  
“Would you like to have a dance with me again sometime?” he asked.

  
Rey broke into a bright smile.

  
“Yes, very much.”

  
Some people had left him, Jim realized. But this one had come back, hopefully to stay.

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted a happy ending for this guy.  
> For some reasons I imagined them dancing to "Carin at the Liquor Store" by The National, hence the title.


End file.
